


Dance

by teatearsandbbc



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Dancing, Dirty Dancing, Dorks in Love, Drinking, Fluff, Friday night out, Frottage, Grinding, M/M, Slow Dancing, but also a little smutty, but not heavily, just a little, they go to a bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-19 23:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11908620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teatearsandbbc/pseuds/teatearsandbbc
Summary: Carlos could feel the music thumping through his body, pounding along like a second heartbeat as he pulled Cecil by the hand out onto the dance floor. He grinned as the blond followed his lead and when they got to the middle of the floor, he reached out and pulled the other man close, fitting their hips together and letting the music take control of his body. The beat sank into his bones and he began to move against Cecil, drawing him into the spell the dance floor wove around them.Carlos takes Cecil dancing. Things might get a little dirty.





	Dance

Carlos could feel the music thumping through his body, pounding along like a second heartbeat as he pulled Cecil by the hand out onto the dance floor. He grinned as the blond followed his lead and when they got to the middle of the floor, he reached out and pulled the other man close, fitting their hips together and letting the music take control of his body. The beat sank into his bones and he began to move against Cecil, drawing him into the spell the dance floor wove around them.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Carlos was beginning to feel the itch of the typical Friday night. Cecil would be home in half an hour, he knew, and they would make dinner or go out to eat, take a walk or watch a movie, have sex in their bed a time or two, and go to sleep until Cecil got up in the morning and made them pancakes. To be fair, almost none of their date nights were without some variety of unexpected disaster or new law of physics or municipally-mandated sacrifice. And Carlos certainly understood Cecil’s attachment to routine. In a town where you weren’t certain from one day to the next which direction gravity would be pulling, sticking to a strict routine was the only way to keep any semblance of a sane and productive lifestyle.

But all the same, Carlos had always craved adventure. Not on a climb Mount Everest, take up skydiving, go to the Running of the Bulls level, but he loved the unexpected. Discovering a new coffee shop or taking an impromptu road trip or skiving off work to go see an eclipse excited Carlos. He supposed that love of the undiscovered was tied to his being a scientist.

So when Cecil’s car pulled into the driveway and he could all but hear the radio host preparing to settle in for a comfortable, expected date night, he was ready.

He greeted his boyfriend at the door with some jeans and a t-shirt for him to change into, a Mapquest printout, a radiant smile, and a quick kiss.

“Nope, you’re not going inside,” he told Cecil cheerfully, locking the front door before wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him to Carlos’ hybrid coupe. “We’re doing something different tonight.”

“Is – has there been something wrong with what we’ve been doing?” Cecil asked uncertainly. He had lit up like an angel when Carlos had greeted him, but now a little wrinkle of worry appeared between his brows. “Oh God, Carlos, if you’ve been unhappy you should have said something!”

Carlos stopped that line of thought with a quick, firm kiss and smiled again at his radio host.

“Nothing has been wrong,” he assured Cecil. “I love what we normally do. Just tonight, we’re doing something different. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Cecil said immediately, his fingers wrapping around the bundle of clothes Carlos was pressing into his chest.

“Then change in the car while I drive,” Carlos said. He flashed another grin as Cecil took the clothes, got into the car door Carlos was holding open for him, and began unbuttoning his vest.

The Mapquest printout served surprisingly well, considering how often streets liked to move. Carlos tried not to think too much about the fact that he would swear the map had looked different when it came out of his printer than it did by the time they pulled into a parking spot outside a line of buildings in the Barista District. There were, of course, seven or eight coffee houses, but once Cecil was out of the car, looking deliciously casual in contrast to his normally impeccable style, Carlos made for the tall building with the burly figure standing by the door.

He paid the cover charge for both of them and then led Cecil by the hand into the club. The wave of sound washed over them the second they were through the doors. Heavy bass lines thumped out a beat that had Carlos automatically adjusting the pace of his footsteps, matching time. Electric instruments climbed to wailing heights before bursting out into energetic choruses sung by auto-tuned voices. Lights flashed out of the darkness, dropping the whole place into a miasma of rhythm and sound and touch. 

Carlos turned to check on Cecil, who was a little wide-eyed, but who didn’t look unhappy. He returned the smile Carlos gave him easily enough, though a little insecurity still lingered in his face. The scientist squeezed his hand reassuringly and led them into the main room and around the edge of the dance floor to the bar.

Carlos let Cecil order and then got the same thing he did. Cecil tended towards sweet, fruity cocktails that were a little over the top for Carlos’ taste, but he didn’t trust the whiskey here, as it was advertised as being “aged in casks dug from the bottom of the ocean when the waters receded and the great god Huntokar left us in this vast barren wasteland.” In fact, Carlos didn’t trust most drinks in this town, but he figured if Cecil was drinking something, it must not be too bad.

The bartender slid over the two aggressively purple cocktails, curly straws spinning in the glasses, and Carlos dropped a few bills on the bar. Then, scooping up his drink with one hand and his boyfriend with the other, he led Cecil over to an L-shaped couch in the corner of the room.

“So what is this about really?” Cecil asked curiously once they sat down and Carlos had slid an easy arm around the radio host’s waist. He didn’t have to shout his question; his voice was low and rich enough that it cut through even the throbbing bass.

“I love our usual Friday night routine, really,” Carlos explained, his voice raised over the music. “But every so often, I like to have a night out at a club. I used to go dancing with some friends all the time in grad school, but since I started my work here, I haven’t really had the chance. Or anyone to go with. These things are a lot more fun with company.”

“Yes, that’s probably true,” Cecil agreed, sipping at his drink. “I’ve been here once or twice before, but honestly, I didn’t find the experience all that enjoyable. I mostly sat in a corner until I finished my drink and then I left.”

“Oh babe, you missed all the fun,” Carlos laughed, taking a sip from his own drink and ignoring the curly straw. “When you come to places like this, having a drink is only the warm up. The whole point is to dance.” Cecil frowned a little and shook his head.

“I don’t dance,” he said with conviction. “I’ve got way more leg than is reasonable and I’ve been reliably informed I look like I’m fighting with a swarm of ghost bees for possession of my limbs.”

“Well,” Carlos said, setting down his drink and sliding his hand up Cecil’s thigh. “I happen to love exactly the amount of leg you have.” Cecil sucked in a little breath, and Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. Then he found that one simply wasn’t enough, and he kissed a little further up, just under Cecil’s jaw. Then again, further along beneath his ear. And before he knew it, Carlos had his arms wrapped around an increasingly-flustered radio host, kissing and licking and sucking at every patch of skin he could reach north of Cecil’s collarbone. 

Finally, he kissed Cecil’s lips, feeling them part beneath his as the radio host ran fingers into Carlos’ hair. Their drinks were only half-gone, but Carlos decided he would just buy them another if these ran off somewhere.

“Besides,” he breathed, his hand firm on Cecil’s waist. “You’ve never danced with me. And I’m a  _ very _ good dancer.”

He stood, pulling Cecil after him and backing towards the crowd of writhing people on the dance floor. They parted easily enough as Carlos wound through them, and he stopped when they were completely surrounded by other dancing pairs, lost in a world of rhythm and motion.

Cecil’s trepidation seemed to be mixed with excitement now, and Carlos reached out and took hold of his boyfriend’s slim hips, pulling them together and beginning to let the music take hold of him.

He had loved dancing since he was a child. Then, it had been on the feet of his abuela or trying to follow along as his mother and father danced the samba, the jarabe tapatio, the salsa. He had made a brief foray into ballroom dance lessons when he was in high school, but it was in college Carlos really found his joy. The all-consuming beat of the clubs, the way the music seemed to merge with his body almost physically, entranced him. He found himself pulled into the rhythm, moving without thinking, losing himself in the music in his bones and the partner in his arms. And it had been years since Carlos had danced like this with anyone, but he found the beat drawing him in in that same enthralling way.

A slow smile spread on Carlos’ face as he slid his fingers over Cecil’s hips and then took a step forward with his left foot. The radio host’s hands were on his biceps and he moved his right foot back, automatically. Their hips shifted together and then Carlos was stepping back again, Cecil mirroring his motion. He grinned as the beat took over, his feet falling into familiar patterns and his hands tugging his boyfriend closer. He watched the wonder grow in Cecil’s eyes as they moved seamlessly together, their steps becoming quicker, surer as the spell of the music took over. When Carlos rolled his whole body against the radio host’s, Cecil followed effortlessly, and a little delighted smile broke out on his face.

And then they were lost. Carlos barely noticed as the songs changed, his body automatically shifting into the new rhythm, his hands now on Cecil’s back, on his arms, running down the long lines of his boyfriend’s torso. He could feel himself beginning to get hard from the contact, and that only strengthened the spell. Cecil’s eyes were wide and his hands followed Carlos’ lead, sometimes coming up to tangle in the scientist’s hair, sometimes running over the planes of his chest. The world was touch and beat and Cecil’s eyes and Carlos felt the tight coil of joy in his chest as his hands ran down to cup his boyfriend’s ass, pulling their hips back flush from where they had separated slightly. 

Carlos couldn’t have said how much time passed, how many songs played as they moved together, bodies melded and breath hot against each other’s mouths. Kisses passed between them, and every so often Carlos would open his eyes to find himself caught in the bottomless violet of Cecil’s gaze. The only time that mattered was the marked beat of the drum, hijacking his heartbeat and hammering him ever closer to the man pressed inch for inch against him.

Then the song shifted and the beat became something less pounding, more constant and grinding. Carlos turned Cecil so he was pressed flush against the radio host’s back, his now-prominent erection pressing against Cecil’s ass. His left hand stayed at Cecil’s hip, fingers hooking into the belt loops of his jeans, while his right slid up to wrap around his waist. He licked at the radio host’s ear and felt the man’s shudder down his whole body. Still moving their feet together as seamlessly as if they were one person, Carlos began to roll his hips against Cecil’s ass, feeling the groans the other man was giving off under his fingertips, but unable to hear them over the music pounding against his eardrums. He could feel his arousal burning through him, fanned and led by the music thrumming in his bones. His breath was hot against Cecil’s neck, and his hands clutched tighter at the radio host.

The flashing lights illuminated moments of time like stills in a movie reel. Cecil’s head tilted back, his eyes closed and his mouth open just slightly, his hand reaching to tangle in Carlos’ hair. Cecil’s hips rolling forward under Carlos’ guidance and his fingers grasping at the hand pressing into his hip. Cecil’s foot stepping forward to follow Carlos’ movement and the muscles of his stomach flexing under his t-shirt as he rolled his body back against Carlos’. Cecil’s fingers tightening over Carlos’ and his hips canting forward, a bulge visible at his own groin and his body taut against Carlos. Cecil’s mouth forming a brief “o” as a wet spot appeared at the front of his jeans when Carlos slid a hand down to his thigh and squeezed, even as he pushed his hard cock against Cecil and rode out his own tidal wave of pleasure.

They hung for a moment under the flash of a light and the seemingly-endless beat of a bass drum, bodies intertwined with each other and the music and the motion. It was a frozen, hot, perfect second of time that seared itself into Carlos’ memory and stole away his breath.

And then the light faded, the beat continued on, and Cecil turned in his arms to press his forehead against Carlos’, their bodies still shifting together, easily now. Carlos’ hands were at Cecil’s back, stroking, rubbing little circles. He surged forward and claimed Cecil’s mouth in a kiss, feeling the radio host’s hands tangling once more in his hair. 

Then the song ended. As another one, one with a beat that jumped and pounded through the soles of Carlos’ feet, began, he led Cecil back to their couch. Luckily, their drinks were still there, and they slurped down the rest of them, giggling and kissing the taste of the cocktail out of each other’s mouths. 

They danced to a few more songs, and Carlos found himself captivated by the beauty of Cecil with his head thrown back, laughing as Carlos twirled him. The scientist slipped the DJ a ten to put on a Spanish number and he guided Cecil through the steps of the samba, tugging at hips and spinning him out, only to pull him close again. They were breathless and sweaty by the time the song was over and they retreated to their couch. 

They had another drink each, cuddled together and whispering and giggling into each other’s necks before Carlos began thinking about the quiet pleasure awaiting them at home. 

When they had sucked the last drops out of the bottoms of their cups, Carlos only conceding to use the straw when Cecil caught it between his fingers and held it out to Carlos with a challenging look in his violet eyes, they stopped by the bathroom to clean up and then headed out to the parking lot. Carlos kissed Cecil before holding his door open for him, and he tried to keep his mind on the road while the radio host’s long, clever fingers traced out patterns on his thigh the entire drive.

When Cecil closed the front door behind them at home, Carlos stretched out a hand to his boyfriend. Cecil met his gentle gaze as he took the proffered hand and allowed Carlos to lead him into their living room.

“I take it we’re trying something else new tonight?” he asked, his voice soft, but still radio-rich. Carlos smiled and kissed the blond’s cheek.

“Just one more,” he replied, sliding his phone out of his pocket and flipping to the weather station he wanted. Soft, slow music drifted out of the phone as Carlos set it on the coffee table and pulled Cecil to him once more, this time wrapping both arms around his waist. The radio host’s arms came up to slide around Carlos’ shoulders and he rested his forehead against the scientist’s as they began to move together slowly.

“Thank you for coming along with me tonight,” he told Cecil quietly as they swayed. “I loved sharing that with you.”

“I’m so glad you did,” Cecil replied, kissing Carlos lightly. 

Their hands were gentle now, cupping faces and stroking thumbs along cheekbones, threading through hair, tracing patterns into shoulderblades. The song was long and slow, and they lost themselves in this music too, letting it wind around them and tie them together. When it finished, Carlos cupped Cecil’s face in his palm and kissed him.

“ _ Te amo _ .”

Carlos could feel Cecil’s smile beneath his lips and his hand. Arms tightened momentarily about him.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay y'all, have a Friday night fic. (It is actually a Friday night as I'm posting this and it has been a hella long day, so let's chill with some dancing and drinks, even if it's just online.)
> 
> What can I say? I love men dancing, and I love sexy Carlos, and I love sweet Cecil. Thus a fic was born. Many thanks to my gorgeous beta, Emliy, who has actually beta'd all of my WTNV fics and is eternally patient when I text her and say "I HAVE A NEW FIC/IDEA," which happens about 38 times a day.
> 
> As always, if you like this fic, kudos are wonderful. Comments are my favorite! Let me know what you think about this fic, about WTNV in general, or about dark versus milk chocolate. I love hearing from you, so if you'd like to talk more, email me at teatearsandbbc@gmail.com. Thanks for reading!


End file.
